


In St. Mungos

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet written for  bazingagirl197 on tumblr.  Just a little angst in the hospital with a hopeful ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In St. Mungos

Draco paces, surveying the empty waiting room at St. Mungos with great displeasure. There is a large window to his left, allowing in an obnoxious amount of bright light, something that seems to set his already aggravated nerves on edge.

It seems completely unfair that a the sun should rise and the world should go on, not like this. Not when he’s going on nearly forty one hours without any news at all.

Forty one hours in which he’d been nearly kicked out several times for threatening at least three different healers when they’d refused to tell him anything. After the last time he’d begun to think they were all avoiding him completely.

Draco looks up suddenly at the sound of feet approaching, but the young healer takes one look at him and actually runs away.

“Draco.” He jumps at the sound, spinning to look at Hermione who is standing in the open doorway, Ron not far behind her.

He’s pleased to see that she looks awful, and if possible Weasley looks even worse. It pleases him somehow, to see them falling apart as well; he doesn’t think he can take one more person who looks put together when his whole world feels like it’s falling apart.

They both look like they’ve been crying, and he notices immediately that neither of them have changed their clothes either. Even Ron, whose Auror robes are still splattered with blood. Harry’s blood.

“Sorry….what?” Draco asks, voice shaky. He hadn’t even realized she was talking to him.

“I said they’re moving him to the fourth floor.”

The fourth floor - long term spell damage. Reserved for the worst cases, he thinks.

“Well why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me? Why would they tell you?!” He almost screams, relishing in his own anger. It’s far safer than than the terrified feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re not the only one who’s worried Malfoy! Sitting in here alone, pacing and threatening and yelling while the rest of us are left out in the hallways. Well guess what, you’re not his only family!“ 

"Fuck you, Weasley!” Draco shouts, instinctively reaching for his wand.

“Stop it!” Hermione cries, stepping between them. Draco wants to yell at her too. He wants suddenly to make her hurt, wants to think about anything but Harry and whether or not he will wake up.

“Draco please,” she whispers, and there’s something so broken in her voice he can’t help but look up. “He’ll want you near,” she says gently, touching his arm hesitantly as if he were some kind of wild animal that could snap at any moment. In a way he thinks maybe he is; broken and scared and dangerous.

In the end he follows them both to the fourth floor, down long, dark hallways full of patients who’ve been there so long no one even pretends they might leave anymore.

“It’s just a precaution,” Hermione says suddenly as if reading his mind. “They don’t …they don’t know. They’re only guessing. They can’t know he’ll be here this long when he wakes up.”

Draco wants to thank her for saying when Harry wakes up and not If but his throat is tight and his head hurts and he doesn’t think he has any more room left in his heart for anyone but Harry, so he walks along saying nothing.

When they reach Harry’s room the door is already open as if someone was expecting them. The room is cheerful and bright, and it looks a lot more like a bedroom than a hospital room. Yet rather than comfort Draco it makes him angry. As if they’ve already all already decided how long Harry will be in here, as if they’re trying to make it permanent. It makes him sick.

“You think he can hear us?” He hears Ron whisper to Hermione as they both sit on one side of the bed, Hermione laying her hand on top of Harry’s very pale arm. Draco states out the window trying to pretend they are somewhere else, anywhere else.

Hours later, when Ron and Hermione have finally gone home Draco finally speaks, and once he starts talking it’s as if he can’t stop; telling Harry everything now that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t say before. He talks so long by the time he finally stops his voice is as raw as his heart.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t leave me,” he whispers, laying his head down on the side of Harry’s bed and pressing a kiss to the top of his fingers.   
Harry’s fingers twitch against his, a movement so soft and quick Draco almost misses it. But it’s enough for Draco, it’s enough hope to keep him going, as he finally closes his eyes and falls asleep clutching Harry’s hand.


End file.
